


this is how you forget

by katreine



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, SnowBarry - Freeform, SnowbarryWeek, flashfrost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8649817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katreine/pseuds/katreine
Summary: Caitlin Snow is terrified of her powers, terrified of something beyond her control that she can't fathom with science or exact experimentation. And then, memories of people and details are taken away from her, one by one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this prequel to frozen heart. I really enjoyed writing both pieces.
> 
> I have another piece coming up soon, also inspired by the KF episode.
> 
> Lastly, I have something I need to say: thank you for your support! As of lately, negativity on social media surrounding SB and Granielle have brought me down; to attack Granielle and their friendship isn't something people should be doing, and I feel it unfair that Snowbarry shippers are attacked all the time on different social media platforms.
> 
> But you guys, and your love for our work, make it all the more worthwhile to foster our little, loving community! And I thank you guys for that. Don't ever stop spreading the Snowbarry love.
> 
> And without further ado, here's the prequel:

It begins with insignificant people in her life.

A week after she finds the cold running through her veins as something unnatural—Caitlin drops the name of the barista that always greets her with a nice smile at Jitters. So she asks Cisco to get her a small chai latte instead as part of his routinely coffee run. Embarrassment colors her cheeks when she forgets the name of her doorman; she doesn’t remember the name of the captain Barry Allen’s directly reporting to.

It doesn’t worry her, for the most part. She chalks it up to excessive stress. Science always has answers to questions she has; it’s what keeps her sane, for the most part of her life.

Until one day, it doesn’t.

Caitlin mulls it over—how the first day she manifested her powers must have been an omen she missed—but she doesn’t have an explanation for anything. No symptom, no diagnosis. 

The moment she does is when it’s too late.

Mugs of coffee chill over in less than a minute, and the frigid temperature of her room is too much for her to think. She walks outside parks and realizes that there’s a hunger inside her, something more than physiological.

It scares her.

So she goes to her mother—for a better grasp at what’s happening to her, and maybe, some comfort. She hasn’t done it in decades—not even when Ronnie died—and her hopes aren’t dashed, except for one thing: permanence is what this is.

Caitlin hides it, for the most part. The anger she feels bubbles inside her, and she finds it harder to be patient. Harder for her to smile at the antics that happen in Star Labs; harder to hide what she feels inside.

Cisco has always been her rock these past few years, months, weeks—Team Flash isn’t just a nuclear team anymore, and while Barry’s there with Joe and Iris and Wally, she finds that he no longer has time for her. 

 _He’s loved by more important people now,_ she admits bitterly to herself. _I have no place in his life._

The sound of Barry groaning, injured, grates through her ears and slices through her heart, and while she’s not supposed to take the cuffs off—while she’s not to use her powers in any extent—she does, and finds that shooting ice out of her hands is a process that’s more muscle memory than new skill. 

It’s easy. It’s wonderful.

It’s terrifying.

The turmoil that boils inside her is strong—enough to lie through grated teeth and convince Joe to check up on Wally even though zero progress has been made. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone—God knows it’s the last thing she wants to do—but something inside her snaps the moment ambiguous answers get thrown in her face.

She kidnaps Julian—the first of many mistakes she’ll make—and convinces him to help her find Alchemy. It’s not long before she loses her temper and snaps, and in the midst of her punishing Julian, consciousness floats above ire.

_What am I doing?_

She feels the warmth enter her bloodstream, her shoulders becoming heavy every passing minute. Her legs shake and she wants to melt into something—someone—and as she does, a flash of red and a gust of wind go by her.

_Barry._

His pleading tone tells it all—but there’s something in his words that make her lose consciousness of herself, and the warmth recedes, replaced by frigidness. It’s unpleasant. A voice whispers notions at the back of her head, and before Caitlin can beg for help, the harsh words start, biting, like frost.

She doesn’t want to do it, something inside her screams against the senses that overwhelm her, but the words are out before she can stop them. 

_I’m sorry, Barry. I’m so, sorry._

At the sound of triggers firing, she’s swept away by Barry behind some pallets. The act of protection Barry underwent is something that makes Caitlin rethink her decisions—and it makes her afraid of what she just did.

But the little voice in her head tells her to not stop.

Before she knows it, she’s crafted an icicle and pierced Barry’s calf with it—the blood scares her, but her mind keeps on telling her to run. Rather, _she_ keeps telling her, and Caitlin follows.

She gets lost for a while, trying to find leads that Julian gave her. The home that stands before her is simple—and she’s not deterred by it. If there’s anything her life in Central City taught her, it’s that those that lead the simplest lives often hold the most secrets.

She crashes the home and threatens an acolyte—but there’s nothing filling the void that’s inside her. When she wanders out into the night, she sees Cisco with the tech they crafted together.

And Caitlin pleads with _her_ to stop.

She doesn’t.

She tries to block it away, to somehow come back as Caitlin, but the cold in her overpowers common sense and logic. 

Cold, she’s so cold.

A flash of red makes its way down the street, and she involuntary ices the whole pathway, making The Flash slip and slide.

She asks about his leg, more conversational than she should, but a force knocks her out, upside down, until she’s side by side him.

And it’s far more comfortable than she expects—the cold gravel whispers against her limbs but it doesn’t shake her. 

The warmth emanating from Barry does.

Their breaths become little clouds, pants of fatigue. Caitlin wants to stay here—and as Barry apologizes to her, _not_ Killer Frost, she feels a warmth surround her.

Before she knows it, she’s on top of him, her weight balanced on his, her lips juxtaposed against the softness of his.

Something tugs at her heart, and she wonders how this could feel so right, but Barry’s lips turn cold, cold, colder, until it feels like ice, and Caitlin realizes, as she opens her eyes, that her powers are hurting him. 

She’s turning him cold, and as she pulls away, a forceful gust pushes her on top of a car windshield. 

And she feels herself slip away, far, far away.

 

The next time she wakes, it’s in a padded, hexagonal cell.

It takes her around eighteen hours to rise up to consciousness, when she sees familiar faces crowding her.

She tries to reason with them to let her out—but her inner villain comes out, that biting cadence lilting her tone. 

She wants to tell Cisco about how impressed she was with his expertise of his powers—but what comes out are sarcastic quips. She does the same when Barry tells her that she’s sick, and while the evil side of her hovers on the surface, there’s more than truth in her words when she says that she’s broken.

And that Barry has Iris, his everyone-else-be-damned happy ending finally in his grasp.

It’s the first time Caitlin feels something rise to the surface that isn’t pure anger—anguish warms her heart in the most painful way, even more painful than the frost that coats it. 

She puts it aside; feelings aren’t something she desires to deal with since Jay.

And yet, it occupies her mind effectively, until Barry opens her cell and asks her for a favor.

The moment Barry asks her to kill him is the moment Caitlin fully gains consciousness—her heart beating faster, faster, until the ice thaws and breaks. Her eyes dilate and she chokes on a breath of fresh air as she pulls Barry closer, his warmth embracing her, making her _feel._

He feels like home. 

It’s the second of the many mistakes Caitlin makes, but she doesn’t realize it until it’s too late. Until there’s nothing but emptiness in her heart.

 

She does her job to make other people happy—Wally’s better in no time, and every metahuman that challenges Team Flash gets beaten. Their dynamic is cyclical again, despite the strain in the relationship between Barry and Cisco.

Things are fine, until Barry asks for her help outside the lab. 

It starts with one metahuman manipulating molecules to siphon Barry’s speed—and calls himself Cobalt Blue. And then the next, and the next. Cisco crafts a bodysuit for her—and she refuses to use it, refuses to give up what little grasp she has on the identity of Caitlin Snow.

She meets Kara Danvers and Winn Schott as Caitlin Snow but she can barely recall their identities—Felicity and Oliver are blurs, ambiguous and yet distinct at the same time.

When Cisco tells her about Laurel Lance, she comes up empty, and a tear falls from her eye. 

And turns into ice.

She starts to forget—Jesse Quick is erased from her memory sooner than Eddie Thawne; so are the other metahumans that she met and the heroes that she used to evaluate in awe. Memories and pieces of her life gone, replaced by ice blasts and night escapades against dangerous metahumans. 

And she quickly turns into one.

The agnosia rapidly eats at her identity—the tears that Cisco spill when she forgets about him is the first and last memory she steals—Caitlin Snow will die before she forgets her best friend.

And of course, Barry Allen.

Throughout the course of three months, Barry never realizes that Caitlin disappears within Killer Frost—the quick-witted, compassionate doctor replaced with a shell of herself that’s ultimately more cunning and cold-hearted. He’s too busy keeping up with his life—finding a job after he gave it up for her, and keeping Iris happy. 

The Flash no longer needs Caitlin, she realizes.

And so she forgets.

She forgets the first day she arrived at Star Labs, Harrison Wells a reality before her eyes. Ronnie is a distant memory; all the hurt that she endured during her stay in Central City a story long forgotten. She doesn’t forget what Jay did to her—those are scars that will never heal.

 

A year later and she feels the same way about a lot of things—Caitlin finds that meditation in her lair is the only thing that keeps her sanity intact—Barry Allen will never be able to heal the scars he left on her being.

After so many takes of the cuffs controlling her powers, she realizes that in the same way she stopped Ronnie as Firestorm, Barry has the same power over her. 

The love she has for him grounds her and keeps Caitlin Snow alive.

The thought of it makes Killer Frost scoff, and Caitlin heave a cry. It’s something she doesn’t enjoy reminiscing—Barry has never admitted to feeling anything but friendship for her—and it makes her want to destroy something, want to suck the lifeblood out of someone who’s done a crime and went unpunished.

So she does exactly that.

 

It’s minutes later, when she returns to her lair, that she hears a voice so familiar to her—a voice that makes her want to run to the source and find _him._

It makes her want to go home.

“Caitlin.”

So she tries to push it back, to forget.

And Caitlin Snow forgets.

 


End file.
